


a very merry christmas

by sidnihoudini



Series: Fork and Knife [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, M/M, Snowed In, Unauthorized Christmas Decorations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-08 13:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8846680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidnihoudini/pseuds/sidnihoudini
Summary: Make the yuletide gay.





	1. One

_2018_

Seb did not haul his ass into Boston late last night to get woken up at seven in the morning.

“Hey,” he grumps, eyes closed as he frowns and reaches one arm out, trying to snag Chris back in before he gets all the way out of bed. “We’re supposed to sleep in!”

It’s the truth, too; this is officially the first morning of their winter holiday - one that Seb purposely took a late night flight out of JFK to make - and here goes Chris, already breaking their ‘sleep until eleven every day’ rule.

If that rule is going to be broken, Seb better be getting some dick out of it.

By the time he gets his eyes open, Chris has yesterday’s sweatpants on, and his phone is in one hand as he walks across the bedroom. Yawning, Seb tugs the flannel sheets Chris would rather die than part with up, and inches over into Chris’s warm spot as he watches, trying to figure out what Chris is doing.

Sharp early morning light floods into the room as Chris pushes the curtains back.

“Wow,” he says, distracted, as Seb groans, burying his face in Chris’s pillow.

Honestly, Chris must be jacked up on some kind of holiday related endorphins. Usually he’d be squinting his way through a bright morning like this.

“Seb,” Chris continues, earnest as ever. “Doll, you gotta check this out.”

Still fuzzy with sleep, Seb gets himself up on one elbow, and begrudgingly squints across the room. His squint possibly looks more like a grimace, but it’s only the two of them here, and it’s not like he has to charm Chris. From this angle Seb can’t see much of whatever Chris is looking at out the window anyway, so he flops back and looks at Chris’s butt instead.

“Tell me what’s happening,” he says, scratching at his three day old stubble.

Leaving the curtain pushed open, Chris turns, and makes his way back to his side of the bed.

“Mike texted, said he’s snowed in,” Chris starts. He rests one knee on the mattress like he’s about to climb in, but then gets distracted with whatever he’s doing on his phone. Seb watches as he hangs out there for a minute, one knee propped up, and then reaches to pull on the drawstring of his sweatpants. Chris looks down at him seriously, and says, “It’s all snow all the time.”

Laughing, Seb tugs him back into bed, manhandling him as much as possible.

“Sleep some more,” he demands, snugging one arm around Chris’s waist.

Not that Seb would ever admit it, but he sleeps way better when his stupid guy is here with him.

“Sure,” Chris agrees easily, settling back into his pillow.

Chris automatically holds one arm out, waiting as Seb gets into his usual position underneath it. Yawning again, Seb settles in, rubbing at one eye as Chris presses a distracted kiss to the top of his head. Seb blinks tiredly and watches Chris’s phone screen as Chris sends a picture back to Mike showcasing the amount of snow they got in the backyard.

Honestly, if Seb ever takes off into the sunset with Christine, these two idiots would have a happy life together, full of beer and football games and snow.

Seb ends up drifting off quickly after that, mouth halfway open against Chris’s pec.

~

“Man, it’s really coming down,” Chris comments, squinting out the kitchen window with a cup of coffee in one hand.

Behind him, at the counter, Seb pours himself another mug, and makes a general noise of agreement.

“As much as I want to do nothing,” he says, adding some cream, “We should probably do something.”

He was gonna make some eggs and bacon, or something equally warm and breakfast-y, but Chris is right. They should make sure they have everything they need before they get more snow, and end up voluntarily homebound for a day or two.

That’s why, twenty minutes later, Seb is standing on the deck in Chris’s Uggs and his usual winter jacket.

“Do you want help?” he calls, laughing when Dodger tries to take another step down to what is usually grass, and disappears into a fresh bank of snow instead.

From somewhere underneath the deck boards, Chris yells back, “Come and grab these!”

Seb carefully makes his way across, swearing when he gets a foot stuck, until he reaches the far side, where Chris is holding a piece of firewood up between the railings for Seb to grab. If either of them had arrived back into town earlier than midnight last night, this is probably something they should have done then.

“Got it,” Seb says, pushing Chris’s gloved hand back.

He waits for Chris to hand him another couple pieces, and then shuffles his way back towards the sliding door, snow up to his calves even under the covered parts of the deck.

After dumping the firewood inside, he turns around in time to see Chris as he comes clunking back up the steps, another load of wood in his arms.

“It’s kinda damp,” he says, out of breath from the struggle of getting into the storage underneath the deck. “But it’ll dry out. Dodger, come on, buddy.”

As Chris reaches the top step, Dodger pops back out of the snow and hurries up the stairs behind him.

“Thanks babe,” Chris sniffs, nose a little red and runny from the cold, as Seb reaches up and takes the top two pieces of firewood off his pile.

“Don’t mention it,” Seb replies automatically, following Chris and the dog inside.

This snow is really not fucking around. Since they got out of bed another two or three inches have fallen, leaving their street temporarily white and fluffy looking. The last time Seb looked out the front window, the roof of Chris’s car also went from being semi identifiable to completely obscured.

Seb unceremoniously deposits his arm load of firewood onto the kitchen floor.

“Fuck,” Chris swears, hunched over as he peers down at the new pieces Seb dropped. “This is really wet.”

Shrugging a little, Seb stands there and watches Chris stand up with a piece in each hand. When Chris knocks both ends together, Seb can’t help the kneejerk clued expression he knows he makes.

“What are you doing?” he asks - which is something he immediately regrets.

“Listen to that!” Chris exclaims, banging them together again and looking serious about it. “These don’t sound hollow enough to be dry.”

Seb frowns, trying to match the expression Chris has on his face, and then pets Dodger’s head when he comes up and bumps his muzzle into Seb’s hand.

“Alright… well, I’m gonna leave you to it,” he says carefully, watching as Chris yanks his glove off to thumb at the wet bark.

Chris waves him off, and throws the wood down to unzip his jacket, which is now clearly restricting him.

Seb leaves Chris’s wet boots by the door and heads upstairs to change out of his jeans, which are now pretty much soaked up to the knee from walking through the snow on the deck. This weather sucks. Luckily they have enough food to get through at least a couple days, though Seb might also attempt a walk to the corner store later, if it’s feasible.

There’s a Patriots game on at 5:30 that he’s planning on missing, anyway.

~

“Hey,” he laughs, bouncing a little when Chris drops back into bed behind him an hour later. “Get outta here!”

Laughing and shaking his head, Chris sneaks one hand up the front of Seb’s t-shirt. His fingers are ice cold from whatever the fuck he was doing down there with his wood - probably jerking off into a fresh snowbank, or something.

“Never, babe, never,” he grins into the nape of Seb’s neck, tucking his nose in there to warm up. “What’s that?”

Thumbing back up his Instagram feed, Seb re-reads the caption, shrugs, and says, “Some Gary Cooper movie,” before resuming his scrolling.

“Hmm,” Chris agrees, squeezing Seb’s pec with one hand. “You’re warm. I’m gonna make dinner. Maybe lasagne.”

“Sure,” Seb yawns, clicking his phone screen off and dropping it to the bed. Chris laughs at him as he stretches one arm out around Chris’s shoulders and rolls over, bumping into Chris’s entire body as he goes. Seb raises his eyebrows and asks, “Hey, think you can make it with no pants on?”

Still laughing, Chris gazes down at Seb’s face, eyelashes giving him away, flicking against his cheeks as he looks at Seb’s lips.

“I could probably be convinced,” he says, smiling when Seb laughs too, and tugs him down for a kiss.

His beard is a little too long - which Seb will let pass for now - but only because this is day one of vacation, and they’ve been apart for two weeks. Sure they had a quick bone last night, but that was borne out of necessity, not technique.

Seb laughs into Chris’s mouth when Chris starts making his way into Seb’s CKs, clearly on the same train of thought.

“I am hungry,” he admits, reaching to pull Chris’s shirt up over his head.

Chris frees his hands long enough to get Seb’s sweatpants down over his butt, and promises, “I can make it quick.”

~

They’re hanging out in the living room later that night, post Patriots game, with the half eaten tray of lasagne on the coffee table between them.

It’s really, really good to be home.

Between the tree that Chris put up right after Thanksgiving, to the snow still falling outside, it’s warm and comforting to be hanging out like this, not a care in the world until the New Year. The fireplace is also getting its first use of the season, with some of the less wet wood sizzling and popping inside.

“Good work on vacation day one,” Seb says, holding one fist out for Chris to bump.

From the other end of the couch, Chris extends his arm, and taps their knuckles together.


	2. Two

2012

_“I thought about texting you but, uh. You know. I remembered how your family gets busy with holiday stuff, so I figured you probably weren’t around.”_

_\--[everything I love gets lost in drawers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7649704)_

~

Being in Boston makes him jumpy.

Seb knows better - he does - but even still, it’s hard to shake the crazy feeling that Chris is going to pop up and surprise him the second he lets his guard down.

It’s a big city; he can practically throw a rock and hit a guy who looks like Chris. There’s no reason Seb can articulate to explain _why_ he feels his stomach flip - and it has flipped - that uneasy somersault of banked adrenaline, those split seconds while his brain catches up and realizes. He knows it’s not Chris, it’s not ever going to be Chris, and yet.

He keeps a few lines at the ready anyway, just in case one of them turns out to be the right guy after all.

~

Seb is only here for a couple of days - the weekend, really, that’s it - as an early Christmas gift to his mother.

So far they’ve seen the shows, done the shopping, and visited enough historic monuments for Seb to feel like he could probably, eventually, give Chris a run for his money on pilgrim related trivia.

He dodges exactly one question about Chris, bless his mother’s well meaning heart, and takes pictures with two girls who ask him where Cap is.

On their last day in town, with plane tickets ready for a 7:30 departure the next morning, Seb leaves his mom to it in the hotel spa - the only place he can leave her to get some space, even if he’d rather join - and sits down on the end of his bed, phone cradled in both hands.

He’s gotta talk to Chris sometime. Production for the new movie is creeping closer every day.

Frowning, Seb opens his contacts, and scrolls down, looking for Chris’s name.

He’s been through the Es a truly embarrassing number of times before the memory of deleting Chris’s contact information breaks over his head like a sheet of ice. Grimacing at himself, Seb covers his face with one hand, and sits there for a minute - long enough for his screen to go completely black.

When he opens his eyes again, the room seems brighter. The mid-December skies are bright and blinding all of a sudden, despite the sun being trapped behind a layer of clouds.

“Get it together,” he tells himself, standing up and leaving his phone behind on the bed.

~

The thing about it is, Seb is pretty sure Chris doesn’t care.

As he has a shower later that night, bags packed and ready to leave come morning, he can’t help himself from wondering what would have happened if he still had Chris’s number. What would that even look like? All of a sudden Chris, what? Gets a call out of the blue from an old co-star turned fuck buddy, and decides to drop by for a friendly coffee?

It’s been so long - they’ve changed so much - Seb doesn’t find that likely.

What Seb does find likely, is the chance of Chris moving on. Aside from work, he probably hasn’t thought about Seb much. Certainly not enough that he’d be expecting a call from him out of nowhere, especially around the holidays.

Chris is probably busy, jesus, he’s got more immediate family than Seb has distant relatives.

It’ll be fine.

January isn’t that far away.

Everything will be fine.


	3. Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows [Seb at spin class](https://www.instagram.com/p/BNaiOCNFa8M/)!

_2016_

Post spin class, Seb is sweaty, tired, and dealing with a sore ass.

It’s a nice walk to the subway, at least - he can’t complain about the weather tonight, or the fact that, with the right hat and jacket, nobody stops him to ask for a picture.

Fifteen minutes later, as he’s waiting for the next train to arrive, he leans against the tiled wall and checks his messages, unsurprised to see that there are three from Chris.

_Hi babe can you stop and get some tape thanks_

_Nevermind I found some_

_Miss you_

Smiling at the screen and also rolling his eyes a little, Seb sends back the peach butt emoji as his train arrives. He ends up sitting between an ancient looking grandma working on some kind of elaborate yarn thing, and a young kid listening to music so loud Seb can hear it from outside his headphones.

Fifteen minutes later, he’s home and unlocking the front door.

He has one foot inside the front hallway when he realizes there’s Christmas music playing. Then he hears Chris drop something and swear. Frowning, Seb closes the front door, hangs his jacket up, and kicks off his sneakers.

By the time he gets to the living room, he realizes that it’s worse than he expected.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he blurts, momentarily stunned.

There’s fucking garland hanging from his fucking Ico Parisi fucking sideboard. That one piece of furniture is worth more than all their living room furniture in LA.

Chris freezes, realizing he’s caught, and looks over one shoulder from where he’s trying to attach something snowman shaped to the inside of the window pane.

Here’s the thing. The thing about Christmas. Chris loves it. Seb understands that - and there are worse things he knows about Chris (his affinity for Disney, his weird relationship with his mother, the fact he reads Eckhart Tolle unironically) - so discovering his boner for Christmas was hardly a surprise.

But they’re in Manhattan. Manhattan has a ban on Christmas, with the exception of the little vintage tinsel tree Seb consented to putting up for the first time last year - but even then, that bitch wasn’t allowed out of its box a day before December 15th. 

Today is November 29th and there’s a goddamned reindeer wearing a scarf sitting on the end table.

“Babe, seriously,” Seb sighs, dropping his keys on the coffee table.

He wanted to change, eat some leftovers, get some dick. Now here he is in hell.

“Give me a chance,” Chris starts, clearly aware he’s getting up to some unauthorized holiday shit as he gives Seb his most convincing smile. Seb raises his eyebrows and opens his mouth, going to respond, when Chris does a quick, “Ah ah ah,” and holds one finger up, jogging over to the far wall to dim the lights.

After running into the side of the coffee table calf first, Chris gets the overhead lights dimmed. Seb agrees that the decorations look better in the dark, and doesn’t understand what Chris is trying to get at until he notices the string of white lights strung up along the fireplace mantel.

Those aren’t so bad, actually. Everything else needs to get the fuck out of town though.

“You wanted to spend more time here this year,” Chris explains, wrapping his arms around Seb’s middle from behind. He rests his mouth against Seb’s shoulder, waiting for a response, and waits about ten seconds before adding, “I didn’t get a tree. I was considering it.”

Seb turns his head, trying to keep his wildly unimpressed expression going, and looks at Chris’s face way too close up.

“Does this mean we don’t have to go to your mom’s for Christmas?” he finally settles on, already sounding skeptical.

Chris laughs and kisses the side of Seb’s face, then lies, “I’ll see what I can do.”


	4. Four

_2017_

“Scott!” Chris yells, reaching across the table to slap his brother’s hand away from the board. “Get out of here!”

‘Tis the season to become embroiled in a six-hour game of Monopoly; in fact, they’re currently on hour two, and Chris is about one Park Place rent payment away from breaking the board over Scott’s head.

Beside Chris, Seb starts cracking up the second Scott makes a dumb face and mimics, “Get out of here!” in a stupid voice.

“My turn,” Seb announces, cutting them off and pushing Chris’s flappy hand out of his face as he reaches for the dice.

“You’re gonna get it,” Chris warns Scott, arching his eyebrows. He rests one arm along the back of Seb’s chair, too, distractedly watching him roll the mismatched dice. “I got some rental properties coming at you.”

Things are not going well for Chris. In fact, he’d go as far to say that letting Scott be the banker was an error in judgement.

“Woo, let’s go, get my thimble over here,” Seb laughs, reaching for his game piece.

As Seb picks his little thimble up and moves his way across the board, Scott kicks Chris’s foot under the table, and cackles when Chris tries to kick him back, and gets the ancient table leg instead.

“Here it comes, buddy,” Chris warns, trying not to let the pain in his socked toe show as he reaches for the dice again. He cups them between his hands and shakes em up good before dramatically letting go, and watching as both die fly in opposite directions. One comes to an bouncing stop against his beer bottle as he exclaims, “Easy eight! Look at that!”

Before anyone can answer, he reaches forward and moves his little dog guy the requisite eight spaces.

“Wow,” Seb laughs, as the doorbell rings.

Chris flips Scott the middle finger - retribution for the kick, and also because the guests are here and he knows he won’t be able to for much longer - and then settles back in his chair, satisfied.

As Scott reaches for the dice next, the sound of their mom greeting the extendo family at the front door begins to drift down the hallway and into the dining room, where the three of them have been drinking since lunch.

“Put that game away,” his mom says, doing a drive-by on her way to the kitchen. “Your aunts are here.”

Laughing, Scott stretches both arms up over his head, and looks over at Seb with raised eyebrows.

He asks, “You ready for this?”

“I was born ready,” Seb laughs, serving up some face as he does so.

“Let’s just leave it the way it is,” Chris adds, not interested in anything besides preserving the integrity of the game. “We can come back to it later.”

Scott, equally uninterested, snags his phone from the table, and stands up as he says, “I’m not gonna care later.”

“Is that a forfeit?” Chris asks, eyebrows arching halfway up his forehead.

Beside him, Seb stands up, too, stretching both arms up over his head with a noise before letting one hand drop on Chris’s shoulder, fingers inching up to brush through his hair.

Scott makes a face and says, “Save the board.”

“You got it, buddy,” Chris retorts, as Scott waves them both off and heads into the other room to get the initial round of greetings and small talk over with.

Turning to rest both hands on Seb’s hips, Chris looks at his face and says, “You and your thimble are pretty cute.”

“Oh yeah?” Seb asks, looking amused as he thumbs at Chris’s cheeks. “I got something to tell you about you and your dog.”

Laughing, and already pretty sure he knows what it’s gonna be, Chris raises his eyebrows and asks, “What’s that?”

Seb leans forward, cupping Chris’s face with his hands on both cheeks, and rests their foreheads together.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” he says gently, making Chris laugh “And that thimble’s gonna be some bad news, too.”

“You need to work on your trash talk,” Chris replies, pulling back a little when he feels Seb’s hand shift. “Are you stealing money from me?!”

Totally busted, Seb cracks up, and puts on his most innocent face.

It works.

~

Aside from a few of the older Evanses, almost everyone remembers Seb from various prior summer events.

Chris is also pretty sure the majority of his aunts would take off and elope with Seb if given half a window of opportunity. He can’t really blame them for that.

Thankfully the majority of the fam cracks right into the wine and whisky - thanks, Chivas - as soon as they migrate into the living room. And, after Chris’s mom rolls out a couple cheese trays and plates of complimentary crackers, everyone is either happy to eat, or tangled in awkward conversation.

“Hey, my mom tried to make those lamb things,” Chris says vaguely, wandering up to Seb, who is currently stationed at the booze table topping off his gigantic mom-sized glass of wine. “They’re spicy, but they’re good.”

To demonstrate this, Chris holds up a toothpick - way too thin to be bearing so much weight - and waits for Seb to bite.

Seb dips in, snags the food with his teeth, and chews, eyebrows knotting as he thinks. Chris watches his fingers flexing around the body of the wine bottle as he finishes pouring his wine.

“It’s pretty good,” he reviews, eyebrows raising. “Not bad at all.”

“Is it spicy?” Chris frowns, now doubting himself as he picks another one up off his tiny paper plate. “It feels spicy.”

That’s the last thing Chris gets out before his uncle spots him and, fifteen seconds later, finds himself directly mid-conversation.

Seb has been to enough of these extended Evanses events to know how to handle himself. Really, Seb could sell ice to an Alaskan in a snowstorm, so Chris doesn’t feel too bad about deserting him in favor of indulging in his favorite pro Brady rant. Chris is reasonably confident that Seb would rather come face to face with the bottom of the Evans totem pole than sit through that again, anyway.

By the time they cross paths again, Seb is sitting on the living room couch between Chris’s two great aunts. He’s also attracted a crowd, Chris realizes, with a sinking feeling. His mom is propped up against the arm chair directly across from Seb, with another aunt sat next to her.

Chris arrives just in time to hear his mother - his own mother, betraying him - laugh, “That’s just like when he was a kid.”

“This looks suspicious,” Chris greets, coming to stand at the fringe, fresh beer in hand.

Seb smiles up at him, clearly pretty happy with himself, and promises, “I’m not doing anything bad.”

Hoping he gets his “that’s debatable” across with a frown, Chris pets Seb’s shoulder as everyone else gets back to talking.

He rests his fingers over the nape of Seb’s neck and points across the room with his beer to say, “My sister’s putting all the cookies out, you should come get some before my uncle gets in there.”

“I made those ones you liked last year,” Chris’s mom interrupts, leaning forward to tap Chris’s arm as she overhears their conversation. “I didn’t put as many nuts in them this time.”

“Chris loves nuts,” Scott contributes, doing a drive-by on his way to the wine.

“Scott,” Chris’s mom warns, but she’s laughing so it doesn’t really count.

Chris is gonna get a return kick under that dining room table later. He’s just biding his time.

“You go get some,” Seb answers, leaning back into the couch with a grin. He nods his chin towards Chris’s mom and catches her eye like they’re in on some kind of secret No Chrises Club as he adds, “I’m good here with Lisa.”

As a kid, Chris dreamed about bringing someone home that his mom liked this much. In theory it was a great idea, but in execution, there’s way more room for it to backfire than he originally anticipated.

Although he’s deeply insulted his mother is a traitor, Chris also totally gets it.

Seb’s way more charming than he could ever dare to be.

“Did you try the lamb?” Chris’s mom asks, looking over at Seb next.

Two weeks ago, she set out to make some kind of traditional… thing… for Seb. Despite being reassured multiple times that it wasn’t necessary - really, seriously, mom, you don’t have to do that - she went for it anyways, with the help of a Buzzfeed article and a guy at the deli she ended up getting into it with.

“Oh yeah,” Seb replies, whole face crinkling up as he puts it on and adds, “It was amazing.”

Chris, clearly out of his depth at the hands being played here, lets go of Seb’s shoulder and makes a U-turn for the cookie table.

~

“There’s a spider in the bathroom sink,” Chris hears his younger cousin announce in the hallway, “And I’m not going near it.”

In the kitchen, Chris pets the dog’s head one last time, and pushes himself back up to his feet.

“Let’s go, pal,” he says quietly. If there’s a spider around, he’s gotta make himself scarce until it’s taken care of.

As he makes his way across the kitchen, he motions to the dog - Pongo, ancient, partially deaf, very grey and very cute - again, and snags his jacket off the coat rack before stepping outside.

After sliding the kitchen door closed, Chris stands on the patio bricks, breath huffing white with the cold, and looks up at the sky. It’s super dark out, but the moon is really doing its thing tonight. She’s bright. He admires the purply halo and tucks his hands into his pockets while the dog shuffles around, sniffing a line across the grass.

Chris squints a little bit, trying to pick out the milky way. He should get Seb out here, actually.

He gives the dog a few more minutes to sniff around before heading back inside.

By the time Chris make his way back into the living room, Seb is deep into entertaining the masses.

It doesn’t take long for Chris to figure out which story he’s telling.

“And then he goes -- “ Seb laughs, and, in one horrifying moment, Chris realizes he’s about to break out into a slow-mo replay. He watches as Seb tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling, and then pretends to push something off his lap before launching up off the couch. The body control he has is distracting Chris, until Seb snaps back to real-time and adds, “As soon as he saw that spider, he was out of there!”

Seb starts cracking himself up again, cackling as he tilts his head back and grabs a boob.

After the round of laughter dies down, one of Chris’s aunt asks, curious, “How did you know he was going to look at the ceiling?”

“Oh god,” Chris interrupts, both hands shooting out. “We don’t have to go into - that.”

Everyone is still ebbing with laughter as Seb puts his serious face on and says, “I was prepared to ride it out for as long as it took.”

Oh, god. Chris feels the nape of his neck heat up as he stands there, surrounded by immediate family members. Now he can’t stop himself from thinking about that particular round of sex; prior to spotting that plastic spider on the ceiling, he’d been having a great time. The traumatic flashback, luckily, hasn’t soured the memory.

“Next time you should tape it,” Chris’s oldest cousin says, half asleep and laughing, hands tucked under each armpit as he reclines on the chair in the corner. “Put that shit on YouTube.”

Chris rolls his eyes, but takes it as the majority of his family mocks him gently and also not so gently.

By the time Seb takes mercy on him, his uncle has started off on a tangent about YouTube conspiracy theories.

“Hey,” Seb smiles, one hand on Chris’s waist as they fumble around the corner and into the darkened hallway.

Grinning, Chris looks all over Seb’s face, from his temples to his jaw and back again, happy and soft and a little bit drunk.

“You’re a menace to society, as usual,” he teases, running his fingers through Seb’s hair.

Seb laughs at him and leans in for a kiss, and then pulls away as they continue towards the end of the hall.

“Wanna look at the stars for a bit?” Chris asks, bumping their shoulders together. “They’re bright tonight.”

Seb grabs Chris’s butt a little, and then says, matter of fact, “With you, always.”

~

Later that night, after all of the Evanses relatives have left, Scott, Chris, and Seb sit back down at the table.

Now with pie. And more beer.

“Don’t stay up too late,” Lisa says, poking her head around the doorway before continuing on her way up the stairs.

Cracking his knuckles, Scott helps himself to a crisp $500 bill from the bank, and asks, “Alright, where were we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8325631/chapters/19068826) the tale Seb was telling.
> 
> [Come say hey on tumblr](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com) if you're enjoying the 12 Days of Christmas so far!


	5. Five

_2011_

Chris looks up from where he’s carefully adding his name on the family greeting card to grandma.

“What?” he calls, loudly, squinting in the general direction of the kitchen.

He’s back at his mom’s house for the month - for Christmas. After a rough year out in the wild, the familiarity of sinking deep into the comfort of his childhood is the only thing saving him from going off the deep end. 

He buzzed his hair off recently. It feels too short. He told everyone it was for a role, and joked it wasn’t a Britney situation, or anything like that. It still felt like letting an old part of himself go.

“When you go to the store,” his mom repeats, bent over the open oven door, “Don’t forget to get your brother some Advil.”

Frowning, Chris leans back against the rickety wooden chair, and groans back, “Why doesn’t he get his own Advil!”

“Do it for your brother,” she replies automatically, already uninterested in the conversation. She hip checks the oven door closed, and moves over to the sink. “You need some money, you take my purse.”

Chris frowns some more, tapping the pen against his mouth as he re-reads his handwritten message.

~

Maybe it’s only part of growing up, but Chris has begun to feel the sting of loss more and more.

His brother’s got some soap opera boyfriend he’s supposed to be keeping a secret, but right now they’re sitting on the living room couch making out like a couple of kids. Chris throws the bottle of Advil at Scott as he passes by, not looking at them twice.

It’s been a strange year. He thinks it might be weird he’s still thinking about Sebastian. Is it weird he’s still thinking about Sebastian?

Chris leaves the rest of the stuff his mom wanted from the grocery store on the kitchen table, and then disappears through the back door, boots and jacket still on from his trek to town.

He’s probably got Sebastian on his mind because he’s not seeing anyone else right now. That’s gotta be it, right? That seems reasonable, that seems.... Correct. It sounds like something he’d do. Chris stands at the far end of the deck and lights a cigarette; his mom can yell at him later, but she might not - there’s been a weird power shift since he started footing the bill on her mortgage.

Exhaling smoke into the frigid December air, Chris leans forward. He braces both elbows on the wooden railing, chipped paint snagging on the fabric of his jacket, and looks out over the frozen grass below.

The sex they had was great. Chris is reasonably confident - if given half the opportunity - the sex would be great again. Seb’s an attractive guy, totally Chris’s type, and funny to boot. Beyond that, they had a pretty good working relationship, especially when you considered the added pressure of helming a new franchise.

Maybe work is what’s making him crazy. Maybe it doesn’t have to do with Seb at all.

Biting his thumbnail, Chris breathes out again. Whatever. It’s fine. He’s cool, and everything is great. Work is great and not stressing him out; not even a little bit. He can totally weather the impending storm of agents and deal brokers and shooting two big studio movies a year.

The side of his brain that likes to cause trouble says do it. Call Seb up.

It might make him feel better. From the beginning, Seb has always made it clear they’re on the same side.

It’d be nice to feel like he was part of a team, however small, again.

Chris sticks his cigarette in his mouth and pulls out his phone, considering the option. It isn’t the right time or place, but it wouldn’t be that weird to do sometime - right? It might be weird to call. He and Seb haven’t talked on the phone since they were on the promo tour, and even then, they were together so much it hadn’t been that necessary.

Maybe just a quick message. He opens their text conversation, and re-reads the last one he sent Seb on Halloween.

_Good times, right?_

There’s that picture again, too. 

God, what a firm reminder of how shockingly beautiful Seb is. Chris opens up the picture again, and ignores the stupid look on his own face to zoom in on Seb’s. He wouldn’t mind walking around the corner and seeing that man again.

For one split second, Chris’s brain betrays him. Wires get crossed - something happens - and Chris is suddenly picturing Seb sitting on the couch in his mother’s living room. His brain likes that, it liked creating that image, and the feelings it conjured up.

Seb standing in the kitchen, smiling at him. In the rain, scowling. Holding his hand and laughing at Chris’s stupid jokes.

Breathless, Chris shakes his head, trying to get rid of the dreamy images before they hurt any more. The resulting ache in his stomach has him resting his weight against the railing, face pained as he stares down at the picture - the real one - in his hand.

God, what the fuck is wrong with him?

Shaking his head, Chris puts his phone away first, and finishes his cigarette second. It probably isn’t the greatest idea he’s ever had - first in a line of many, really - but he’s going to be in New York on business come January. Calling Seb up would be casual. Friend like.

Maybe he could even talk Seb into getting a drink with him, sometime.

As Chris slides the kitchen door back open, banging it a little with his foot when it gets stuck in the track, he feels a little bit better.

It’s still hard to shake the dreamsick, hazy feeling that lingers around after him for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's left a comment so far! I appreciate it a lot - I don't always have the chance to respond, especially during these kind of holiday marathons, but I read + love every one.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SLEEPY BEAR MAKES HIS TRIUMPHANT RETURN

_2015_

They’ve been together for almost a year, and the day has finally come that Seb has been dreading since January:

Christmas with the Evanses.

After dragging his feet all morning - including trying to distract Chris with a shower bone - Seb ends up getting squeezed into a red sweater and then the car.

“This is gonna be great, babe,” Chris promises, pulling out of his street parking spot. “My mom’s been asking about you all week.”

“Oh yeah?” Seb asks, a little curious even though he doesn’t really want to know. He pulls the seat belt away from his neck - it’s a little too tight and cutting into his shoulder - and glances over at Chris. “What’s she asking?”

Chris shrugs and reaches for his coffee, “You know, mom stuff. Your favorite food, things like that.”

“My favorite food, huh,” Seb intones, going back to looking out the passenger window. He thinks for a second, and then looks back over at Chris with a squinty gaze, and asks, “What’d you tell her?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out later,” Chris says, burning himself a little as he puts his coffee cup back in the holder. “Ow, fuck.”

They end up holding hands most of the hour long drive to Chris’s mother’s. Seb has no idea what type of pod person he’s been replaced by, but he likes doing this kind of shit with his guy. The twenty one year old who maintained he’d never settle down - seriously, life of an actor and all that - would be giving current day Seb so much shit if he could see himself now.

Seb kind of dozes off once they’re on the highway; the heat and the steady rumble of the car make it hard to stay awake.

~

“Wow,” Seb manages, as they drop their bags in the room they’ll be staying the night in.

An almost perfectly preserved version of Chris’s childhood room. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it sure wasn’t this.

“The bed should be big enough for both of us,” Chris says, tossing his things on the bed. “If not, there’s an air mattress we can blow up instead.”

“Great,” Seb laughs, too caught off guard to be anything other than amused.

They just did the initial round of greetings downstairs - Seb has met Chris’s mom a bunch of times before, but only for work events. Since they’ve been doing the relationship thing, Seb has managed to slip and slide out from under her finger.

Unfortunately, when Christmas rolls into town, not even Manhattan is big enough to hide in.

“Is this you?” Seb cackles, spotting a shelf full of old 80s portraits and sports trophies. “Cool hair.”

Chris laughs, looking up from where he’s digging around in his bag, and shrugs.

“I was a pretty cool guy,” he manages, as Seb pulls his phone out and takes a picture of bowl-headed kid Chris.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Seb grins, continuing onto the next shelf.

By the time Chris has finished unpacking - which seems unnecessary, he definitely stayed here for a couple of weeks when Seb was on the west coast last month - Seb has seen enough Chris memorabilia to last him a while.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Chris says quietly, getting him around the waist from behind. He tucks his nose into Seb’s shoulder, and gets one hand up the front of his sweater as Seb eyes a commemorative Beanie Baby entombed in its plastic holder. “I missed you last year.”

Smiling, Seb gets himself turned around, and holds onto Chris’s waist, says, “So I heard.”

Chris looks like he’s considering saying something else, but ends up leaning in instead, going for a kiss and then another one, before he grabs at Seb’s butt a little.

“I’m not fucking you on an air mattress in front of your baby teeth,” Seb murmurs, grinning when Chris starts cracking up against his throat. He grins a little himself, and adds, “Hey pal, I’m not kidding!”

“I got it, I got it,” Chris murmurs back, still nosing at Seb’s jaw.

~

The food starts rolling out around noon - something that Seb is deeply prepared to take full advantage of.

He’s been given the full house tour already. From the recently renovated kitchen, to the Christmas tree full of Disney, Hallmark, and homemade ornaments, Seb has seen it all. He hangs out with the dog while Chris and his mom do whatever it is they’re doing in the kitchen, and breathes a sigh of relief when Scott rolls up not long after that.

Scott is easily the most palatable Evans of them all, especially during this time of year.

“Hey, I got a plate going for you in here,” Chris announces, popping his head around the living room door frame.

As Seb understands it, the plan for today is immediate family members only, which is something he can get behind. If he’s trapped in a house full of Evanses on Christmas Eve, the least they can do is break him in slowly.

“Look at this idiot,” Scott cackles, as Chris turns toward them, a Patriots themed Santa hat on his head. “That’s jaunty.”

Seb cracks up at that, laughing as Chris hands him a half loaded plate and says to Scott, “You’re jealous, bro!”

It must be unspoken tradition or something, because they all end up in the den with the original Charlie Brown paused on the gigantic old school flatscreen. Seb settles into one of two recliners, and breaks into the potato salad, which has been calling his name since he first saw it.

“This is amazing,” he reviews, eyebrows knotting together as he swallows and looks down at his plate, already planning the next bite.

Chris’s mom hits him with a refill before he’s even made it through two thirds of his plate; Seb eats that, too. By the time he’s done, he’s stuffed - like, maybe even a little short of breath - and starting to slide into a carb coma.

“Babe,” Chris says, startling him out of his haze. “You want anymore?”

Shaking his head, Seb crosses his arms over his chest, already a little sleepy, and says, “Gotta leave room for pie.”

Chris must leave him to it, because the next thing Seb knows, he’s being startled awake by everyone yelling at the TV.

“What,” he manages, rubbing at one eye, trying to wake himself up.

With a dramatic sigh, Chris drops down to sit on the arm of the recliner, and gestures at the TV with his beer, saying, “He shoulda known better! You don’t just get away with that!”

Yawning, Seb asks, “What’s going on?”

He immediately regrets asking the question: the answer comes from all sides. Three generations of Evanses chip in with their two cents, all directed towards the football game just barely getting started on the TV. Seb keeps a straight face through the onslaught, grateful when a commentator apparently says something stupid and everyone loses it again.

~

Seb hits up the pie table once the game is over.

Post pie, everyone disperses. There are last minute trips to the grocery store to be had, and other holiday related tasks to be done. It’s actually peaceful for the first time all day - the calm before the storm - so Seb takes advantage of it, and snags the otherwise unoccupied couch.

It takes ten minutes before Chris finds him and joins in.

“It’s tight,” Chris reviews, getting his left arm up around Seb’s shoulders. “But it works.”

This is definitely something Seb can get behind. There’s probably no getting out of this position until Chris takes mercy on him, or he starts sweating - whichever comes first. He’s fully wedged between Chris’s body and the back of the couch, with his head in Chris’s armpit and his leg flopped over Chris’s thighs.

“Did you make that ugly thing?” Seb asks, nodding his head towards the tree.

The angle is a little awkward, but Chris manages to turn enough to see the tree. He asks, “Which one?”

“The macaroni lady,” Seb laughs, tickled.

“Hey! That’s an angel,” Chris defends, which immediately confirms he was the creative force behind it.

Seb laughs some more, strangely happy despite the circumstances.

“I got you an early Christmas present,” Chris says a few minutes later, wiggling his hips around as he digs in his pants pocket.

Intrigued, Seb pushes himself up on one elbow, and watches as Chris produces a slightly smooshed joint.

~

It’s cold outside, but not terribly so considering it’s New England in winter.

Seb sticks to his sweater - the line between regular body temperature and way too hot is suspiciously thin these days.

They go down onto the grass, mostly so the smell won’t be so obvious, but also because Seb doesn’t want to make small talk through the sliding glass doors if anyone comes home.

“Here, doll,” Chris pinches out through a lungful of smoke, holding the lit joint out for Seb to take.

Despite the crunchy grass and cold air, Pongo drops a well chewed tennis ball at Chris’s feet and waits for a toss. Seb alternates between checking out the Christmas lights in the neighbors yards, and watching Chris chuck the ball, his shirt and jacket popping up each time he does.

By the time Chris has thrown the ball a dozen times and they’ve shared the majority of the joint, Seb is pretty stoned.

“My face feels cold,” Chris says, as they get back into the kitchen.

Seb laughs and rests both hands on Chris’s cheeks, trying to warm them up even though his fingers are just as cold.

They end up standing shoulder to shoulder over the kitchen sink as they sneak some leftover pie. Once the pie is gone, Chris checks the living room and den to make sure no Monopoly games or movie viewings are going down, and then directs Seb back towards the stairs.

“Shhh,” Seb manages, laughing as they trip over themselves, Chris’s hands on his waist.

By the time they get back into Chris’s bedroom, they’re both cracking up and grabbing at each other’s butts.

“Get this off,” Chris says, trying to tug Seb’s sweater up over his head.

Something happens - they’re stoned and the sweater is already a size too small, due to Seb’s current beefy status - and he ends up stuck, one arm up over his head, with the other hanging awkwardly at his side. Chris can’t stop belly laughing, big stupid HA HA HAs, but does belatedly try to help out as Seb fights his way through the fabric.

“My god,” Seb pants, once he’s free.

Chris is still a little misty-eyed with laughter, cheeks all flushed as he grins and dips close for another kiss.

“Oh so you think that’s funny, huh,” Seb teases, grabbing Chris by the hips to pull them closer together.

Grinning, eyes all bright and blazed, Chris leans back as Seb mouths down his jaw, and says, “Just a big guy in a tiny sweater.”

“Hmmm,” Seb replies, distracted as he starts pushing Chris’s t-shirt up with both palms on his stomach, “You’re pretty warm.”

“Yeah, I’m, uhh,” Chris manages, biting his lip when Seb skims over his nipple with his thumb. “Good.”

They end up on Chris’s bed, which they just barely fit on when they’re laying shoulder to shoulder. Chris checks the lock on his bedroom door approximately twelve times, a little paranoid someone is going to bust in on them. The last time Chris gets up to check, Seb puts in a request to turn around some of his framed childhood portraits, so Chris detours and does that, too.

“Better,” Seb breathes, as Chris lands over him, hands in the mattress over his shoulders.

Chris is always extra touchy when he’s stoned. It didn’t take Seb long to realize that when they started partying and hooking up a thousand years ago, and it hasn’t changed in the time since. As Seb arches up, kissing him, Chris blindly reaches for Seb’s dick and starts rubbing at it through his underwear.

“Love that,” Chris babbles, talking against Seb’s mouth as he rolls his ass back, riding the length of Seb’s dick.

Stretching both arms up over his head, Seb settles back and watches as Chris starts getting himself off. He isn’t wearing underwear - big surprise - so he starts to jerk off with one hand, the other still against the mattress to brace his body over Seb’s.

Seb takes the opportunity to feel him up a little. He thumbs at both of Chris’s nipples this time, and rolls his hips up against Chris’s ass, groaning softly when Chris squeezes his thighs around Seb’s hips and works his hand up around the head of his cock.

“This is bringing back some weird memories,” Chris pants, stomach starting to tense as he gets closer to coming.

Laughing, Seb drops his hands down to Chris’s thighs and rubs up and down on those a little too, thumbs dipping down near the base of his dick as Chris freezes, panting sharp and fast as he starts to come.

He splatters Seb all over his stomach, and then just sits there for a minute, out of breath and trying to calm down.

“Fuck,” Chris finally swears, leaning down for a quick, wet, kiss.

What was supposed to be one kiss turns into two, and then they’re making out as Chris reaches down, blindly trying to get Seb’s underwear off and his dick out. Seb ends up assisting, pushing his hips up off the bed as Chris wraps his hand around Seb and gives him a squeeze.

“Yeah, babe,” Seb says, voice a little quiet as they break away and look down between them.

Chris jerks him off slow, totally zoned in on watching what he’s doing, and then leans back, free hand dropping back between Seb’s legs to trace his fingers over Seb’s ass. Since Seb’s been big for the movie, Chris has mostly been fixated on getting dick. Seb feels himself get hotter when Chris goes for his ass this time, thumb resting against his balls as he acts like he’s gonna finger Seb a little.

“Chris,” Seb manages, hips flexing as he gets closer to coming, unable to do anything but pant and watch Chris’s fingers tighten around the head of his dick.

It doesn’t take much longer - as soon as Chris straightens up and two-hands Seb’s dick, it’s over. He comes all over himself, unable to stop it, and ends up laughing when Chris belatedly shuffles back and leans down, pressing a kiss to his wet hip.

“I feel like this bed is loud,” Chris says after a long minute, otherwise filled with nothing but their heavy breathing.

Seb pushes up with his heels and drops his ass back down onto the mattress to test Chris’s theory. It is a… little squeaky.

“What are you talking about,” Seb manages, reaching for Chris’s waist. “We were just lying here.”

~

Later that night, Seb is back in his sweater in front of the fire in the living room.

“It’s a tradition,” Chris’s mom says suspiciously, handing over a small square box.

Seb offers up a confused smile, but opens up the box, mostly because everyone is staring at him and waiting.

“Oh… wow,” he manages, laughing a little despite himself when he pulls out the bear from The Jungle Book in ornament form.

Taking the empty box away from Seb, Chris’s mom instructs him to, “Flip it over and look at the bottom.”

Seb offers her a weary smile, and then does what he’s told.

On one of the bear’s feet, someone - Chris’s mom - has written in sharpie: _Sebastian, 2015._

“This is… very kind,” Seb says, nodding his head. He looks up, and adds a sincere, “Thank you.”

Secretly, Seb wonders whether he should shut the ornament train down immediately, or pretend to actually like it for the rest of his life.


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Check out the Instagram edit here](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com/post/154742641540/fork-and-knife-12-days-of-christmas)!

_2016_

Seb is across town and halfway through a full day of meetings when he sees it for the first time.

People tag him in weird shit every day. He’s seen more manipulations of he and Chris’s heads on various Disney characters than is frankly even a little bit reasonable. Fans tag him in solo pictures of Chris all the time, too - he doesn’t really understand why, but is happy to reap the rewards anyway.

Especially when a picture like this comes across his desk, good god.

It’s an old photo of Chris for sure - sorry, babe, but you can really tell by the hair - one that Seb has never seen before. For the most part, he gets tagged in pictures of Chris’s questionable fashion choices, or Cap movie memes, but this is new.

He can even get over the cartoon Santa hat someone added.

Carefully avoiding an accidental like, Seb screencaps the post, opens his messages, and sends it to Chris in a text.

 _THIS IS WHAT I WANT,_ he adds.

He goes back to Instagram for a bit, killing time until his next meeting, and laughs when Chris responds a few minutes later.

 _A santa hat???_ he asks.

Seb decides to keep it simple. He replies with a single eggplant emoji.

Not even Chris could misinterpret that.

~

By the time five o’clock rolls around, Seb is ready to head home and relax.

Chris got back from his USO stuff a few days ago. Seb has a feeling Chris is currently at home, watching Christmas movies and sneaking more unauthorized decorations into the living room. Aside from their brief text conversation over lunch, Seb hasn’t heard from him at all today. That alone is suspicious.

With traffic, it takes half an hour to get back to Manhattan. Seb sends a few last minute replies to emails he didn’t get a chance to respond to earlier, and digs around for his door keys through the hallway journey from elevator to front door.

“Chris,” he calls, closing the front door. Part of him is wondering if it would be worth it to take part in some kind of sneaky late-night dinner date; he’s only got Chris for a few more days. “I’m back.”

“In here,” Chris replies from the living room.

Seb dumps his shit in the front hall, kicks off his shoes, and is taking his usual sharp right into the living room when he comes to an abrupt, screeching halt.

“Jesus,” he swears, speechless for the first time in recent memory.

He stares at Chris standing on the other side of the living room.

“Check me out,” Chris says, flexing a little bit.

The pants aren’t a perfect replica, per say, but really, there’s no way to do them wrong. Especially when they’re on that body, good god. The fabric is tight in all the right places, and low enough that Chris’s pelvis is practically hanging out. He’s also got a hoodie on that definitely belongs to Seb, a bit too short through the torso and sleeves. The tight fit accentuates Chris’s ridiculous shape; his entire body is practically an arrow that points straight down to his dick.

Everything is so mesmerizing. It takes Seb way longer than it usually would to notice the Santa hat on Chris’s head.

“That’s,” Seb starts, gaze firmly trained on Chris’s lower body. “Wow.”

Chris laughs and walks over, sneaking up against Seb’s back with his arms around Seb’s waist. He pushes his hips forward, pressing his half hard dick against Seb’s ass.

It’s difficult to adequately convey how much Seb loves that body. Nobody has ever fucked him as good as Chris does.

“The pants are for you,” Chris murmurs against the back of Seb’s ear, rolling his hips a little more. “The hat is for me.”

Seb laughs, he can’t help it, and then groans a little, helpless, as he pushes back against Chris’s dick.

“Don’t make it weird,” Seb manages, already thinking with his hard-on. Chris starts kissing down the side of his neck, all too long stubble and warm mouth, and reaches around to start pushing Seb’s t-shirt up his belly with both hands.

They stand there for a minute, kissing and pressed together, until Chris starts to walk them backwards, leading them towards the couch. When Seb feels the front of the couch butt up against his calves, he drops automatically, grinning up at Chris and holding onto the drawstrings of the hoodie as he does so.

Chris smiles down at him and runs a hand through Seb’s hair, a little longer on the sides than usual. Seb breaks their eye contact to help himself to what he wants, which is primarily getting both hands on Chris’s dick.

He rolls Chris’s waistband down a little - yes, solid choice - and leans forward automatically, ready to start sucking down from belly button to dick. Seb gets one kiss in before Chris stops him with a hand on the shoulder.

“Hey, I have a whole thing,” he grins, giving Seb a gentle shove back into the couch.

Raising his eyebrows, Seb falls back into the couch, weight on one elbow, with his free hand rested over his hard-on.

Chris clicks some music on - Seb figures some stripping is about to go down, and there are few things more awkward than doing it without music - and flexes a little, laughing when Seb laughs at him.

Really, Seb is just grateful the song is not Jingle Bells.

“Wait,” Seb grins, leaning forward to wave Chris closer. When he’s within striking distance, Seb reaches up and snags the hat off his head. “You can put it back on later, just let me enjoy this.”

Still cracking up a little, Chris allows the removal of his Santa hat, and then goes back to moving in rhythm with the music. For as many things that Chris is not so good at, he’s a natural dancer. Seb usually forgets that, but jesus, if moments like these aren’t the most effective reminders.

When Chris makes a whip sound, Seb starts laughing again, this time reaching forward to pull Chris closer by the ass.

He do love that ass.

Seb’s gotta grope the talent a little bit, he can’t help himself. He runs his hands over the tops of Chris’s thighs and then the flat parts of his hips. His dick gets a little harder as he pushes the bottom hem of the hoodie up, and the waistband of Chris’s pants a bit further down.

As Seb exposes more skin, Chris rolls his hips again, and reaches down to slide one hand underneath the waistband and around the base of his dick.

Yeah, that’s what Seb wants to see more of. He bites his lip and rubs his own fingers over the backs of Chris’s - the sweatpant fabric these are made out of is outrageously thin - before moving his hand back up to Chris’s stomach, scratching through his belly hair.

“Jerk off a little,” Seb requests, looking up at Chris with the face that usually gets him whatever he wants. “I wanna watch.”

Chris groans a little and nods, licking his lips as he pulls his dick half out of the pants. These pants are tight. They also sit low enough that, even without the help, Chris’s hard-on would have ended up poking over the waistband anyway. Seb can’t help himself when he sees it right there - he leans forward and sucks a quick kiss to the head of Chris’s dick mid jerk.

“Seb,” Chris pants, squeezing down the length. “Babe.”

Making an agreeable noise, Seb rests a hand on each of Chris’s thighs, and watches as Chris jerks off a little, knuckles bumping and stretching the fabric of the pants as he gets into it. Seb lets one hand creep over, rubbing Chris’s balls from outside the fabric.

He licks his bottom lip automatically when Chris groans and hitches forward, one hand coming out to rest on Seb’s shoulder.

After a moment to steady himself, Chris resumes thrusting into his fist, really working his hips into it. Seb leans back into the couch again, and groans in relief as he finally gets his jeans undone. Without hesitation he pushes them down over his hips and to his feet, then leans forward and strips his shirt up over his head.

“I gotta get some of that,” Seb murmurs, standing up.

As he goes in for a kiss, one of his hands join Chris’s around his dick. Seb rests the other on Chris’s ribcage.

Chris kisses back automatically, breathing heavy as he bumps into Seb’s pelvis with his dick and then his knuckles. He holds the side of Seb’s jaw with his free hand, angling Seb’s mouth how he wants it.

Making another noise into the kiss, Seb pivots them, turning until Chris bumps into the couch first this time. Chris takes his hand out of his own pants and goes for Seb’s body instead, both hands sliding from Seb’s hips to his ass. He curls his fingers in, pulling Seb’s ass apart, and grinds up against Seb’s front.

Seb presses forward, following when Chris gets the idea and drops down to sit on the couch. He straddles Chris’s lap and goes back to kissing, a little distracted when he feels Chris fumbling, reaching around blindly for what Seb assumes is the Santa hat.

If Chris is still concerned about the hat, Seb hasn’t got him boned up enough.

He stretches one arm out and pushes the hat back out of Chris’s hand before he can get a good grip on it, and then goes back to kissing him, fingers in Chris’s hair as he presses his body back into the couch. Chris hasn’t had a haircut since summer either, and it’s really beginning to show now, just a bit too long between Seb’s fingers to be entirely familiar.

“God, Seb,” Chris pants, dropping his head back against the couch.

Seb grins, chasing Chris’s mouth, and then sucking a line of kisses down the side of his throat.

“Stretch out,” Seb instructs, shifting to brace the majority of his weight on one knee so Chris can shift around underneath him.

It doesn’t take Chris long to situate himself. He lays lengthwise on the couch, the top of his head butted against the inside of the couch arm, with one leg on the couch and the other bent at the knee, foot flat on the floor. The pants aren’t really doing much in terms of containment anymore; the thin fabric is too bunched up and pushed down, leaving Chris’s dick to poke up above the waistband.

That alone is Seb’s new favorite thing about the holiday season.

“Hold on,” Chris manages, a little out of breath as he pushes up onto one elbow and tugs at the front of his hoodie. “I gotta get out of this.”

Laughing, Seb helps him strip out of the too small hoodie, and then settles back over his dick again, undies not doing that great of a job at hiding his own boner, either.

With the hoodie taken care of, Seb resumes grinding, laughing a little bit as Chris reaches to start jerking him off. It just feels so good. Seb watches as Chris leaves one hand to rub the length of his dick from outside his underwear, and creeps the other up Seb’s other leg to barely get around his dick.

Seb watches Chris’s face and rolls his ass back against Chris’s dick, and then pushes forward to pump his dick into Chris’s hand.

“Get up here,” Chris says a few minutes later, hand coasting from Seb’s cock to his ass.

A little distracted, Seb grinds them together again, and then looks up, confused until he sees that look on Chris’s face.

He knows that look. It’s one of his all-time favorite looks.

“Yeah,” Seb agrees easily, pushing up onto his knees and then to his feet.

“Take those off,” Chris adds, breathless, reaching up to finger the leg of Seb’s CKs.

Seb slides the underwear down, steps out of them, and gets back up onto the couch, one foot between Chris’s knees, and the other at his hip. This might be a little tight, but it’ll work. They’ll make it work; Chris has eaten him out in way smaller spaces than this.

Between his legs, Chris repositions himself, shifting a little further down the cushions, and then stretching both arms out, reaching up for Seb. Seb immediately takes a step forward, and then another, and then turns around, and sits down at the widest part of Chris’s chest.

This position floods Seb’s brain with visions of getting his dick back between those pecs. Rubbing Chris’s chest, Seb considers it, but inevitably lets Chris pull him backwards by the hips, until the insides of Chris’s upper arms are resting against the back of Seb’s thighs.

Seb leans forward automatically, arching his back, and grabbing onto Chris’s legs with a groan.

Below and behind him, Chris murmurs, “Jesus,” and leans in mouth first.

Fuck. Seb tilts his head back, leaning into it as Chris licks and sucks. He’s getting into it if the way he starts pumping his hips up at nothing is any indication.

Seb rolls his hips back, riding Chris’s face as Chris starts to rock his dick up into his pants, trying to get some kind of stimulation. Starting to breathe a little heavier, brain hazy, Seb steadies himself with both hands on Chris’s thighs, and lets his head drop forward, chin resting against his chest as he watches Chris’s dick.

It isn’t long before Chris pulls back, beard scratching against Seb’s thighs as he lets out a soft groan and reaches back over his head, fumbling around on the end table for something.

“What?” Seb breathes, twisting at the waist to see if he can help.

As he turns, he looks down at Chris - flushed face, glazed eyes, deeply satisfied - and then over his head, where his fingers are bumping the TV remote and coffee mug he must have been drinking out of earlier.

Seb spots the lube before Chris finds it with his hand, so he leans back, trying to keep the bulk of his weight off of Chris’s head as he snags it. He gives in and grinds his dick into Chris’s pecs hands free as he fumbles the cap off, still a little sticky from this morning.

“Here,” he pants, reaching back to remove Chris’s hand from his butt cheek.

Chris flips his hand palm up and waits for Seb to put some lube in it, then pushes Seb away by the lower back, groaning when Seb goes. Seb takes the opportunity to toss the thing of lube onto the floor before it can get on the couch and wreck the leather.

With Chris’s dick right there it’s really hard to not just pull it all the way out of his pants, so Seb gives in. He reaches forward and pushes Chris’s pants further down his thighs, so his dick is fully out. It flops back against his belly, rock hard.

Elaborate fingering is not needed; after a couple of minutes, Seb is ready to go.

“It’s good,” he pants out, staggering back up into a fully seated position. Chris rubs him a little more anyway, sucking at Seb’s thigh before he takes his fingers out and goes for his own dick instead, using the last remnants of the lube on his hand as he jerks himself off real quick.

Seb wouldn’t mind watching Chris get himself all the way off, but for right now, he needs that dick.

He shuffles down the length of Chris’s body until he’s sat over Chris’s thighs.

Behind Seb, Chris holds his dick steady with one hand. The other rests on Seb’s hip as he pulls Seb backwards, pressing his hips up and forward before Seb is even in the right position. Seb steadies himself with one arm along the back of the couch and the other on Chris’s hip, and sinks down, meeting Chris halfway.

Fuck, that feels good. That’s a good dick and Seb knows it.

Seb rolls forward, forehead falling against his forearm that’s still along the back of the couch. He lets Chris do most of the work at first. Chris holds onto Seb’s hips and pumps up into him, feet bumping against the couch arm until he gives up and drops one leg back off so he has a foot on the floor for balance.

Once Chris does that he can really get going, pants stretching between his thighs as he moves.

“Baby,” Chris manages, squeezing the sides of Seb’s ass with both hands, before reaching around to jerk him off.

Seb leans forward at the waist a little, changing the angle so Chris has the best view of his ass, and lets his head drop forward, eyes closing as he absorbs the feeling. That’s perfect. His breathing starts to come faster and faster, until he’s panting and unable to stop himself from making all kinds of noises, from soft groans to Chris’s name over and over.

He starts jerking off when Chris starts losing his rhythm, clearly no longer interested in anything like technique or stamina once he really starts losing himself. Seb lets himself relax and just sit there for the ride, dick getting wet with precome every time Chris bangs into the right spot.

The closer he gets the faster his breathing is, until Chris fucks him just perfect and he starts coming, body contracting and muscles spasming as he rubs himself through it, close to overstimulated with the way Chris is still banging into him.

“Fuck,” he swears, shakily, straightening himself back up.

Chris holds onto his hips and gets a couple more solid thrusts in before he’s coming too, almost bouncing Seb off his cock as he arches his hips up and his head back into the cushions. Seb tries to catch his own breath, and holds onto Chris’s thighs until Chris relaxes suddenly, legs going all slack and jelly like as his knees flop open.

“That was a good idea,” Chris groans, twitching underneath him.

Straightening himself up, Seb pushes up onto his knees and reaches back to hold onto Chris’s dick as he pulls out.

Chris keeps a hand on Seb’s ass and then ankle as Seb stretches forward, trying to reach for the hat he tossed away earlier.

“You earned it,” Seb laughs, still a little breathless, as he flops back onto Chris’s chest and reaches up blindly to drop the hat on his face.

Laughing, Chris wraps Seb up in one arm, and holds the hat out in front of them with the other, straightening the puff out before he sets it on his head as best he can while still laying down.

“Thanks,” Chris pants, smacking a kiss to the side of Seb’s ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](http://thenavynumber.tumblr.com/post/149814612404) a bonus tight pants, and [here's](http://thenavynumber.tumblr.com/post/149814596764) the original.


	8. Eight

_2013_

It’s not that Chris is nervous to meet Seb’s friends.

He just feels… underprepared.

“It’s casual,” Seb promises, zipping up his fly. “Just some drinks.”

Just some drinks. Chris can do that. He can totally do that.

He frowns at himself in the mirror, trying to get a grip - he wasn’t even this nervous when he introduced Seb to his own group of friends a few months ago. And it’s not like… it’s not like they’re in some serious relationship, anyway. These aren’t people Chris is going to be around for the rest of his life.

It’s just some drinks. That’s all.

“Did you book your flight yet?” Seb asks, sitting down on the edge of the bed to put on some socks.

Chris’s gaze shifts to look at Seb’s reflection in the mirror. He says, “Not yet. I should do that tomorrow.”

With a smile, Seb pops back up and holds onto Chris’s waist from behind to smack a kiss to his cheek.

“You might end up driving home,” he teases, grabbing Chris’s hips a little.

Technically, Chris was already supposed to be home for the holidays a few days ago. For some reason, this year he’s having a hard time leaving Manhattan.

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Chris replies softly, turning his head as Seb leans in to press another kiss to his jaw.

~

There aren’t too many people here, which Chris appreciates - just close friends.

It’s the highrise cocktail equivalent of Mike’s backyard bonfire, and once Chris realizes Seb’s friends are just like his - albeit better dressed - he relaxes a bit. A couple of old fashioneds help, too.

“Hanging in there?” Seb laughs, an hour into it, as he closes the balcony door behind the two of them.

Chris accepts a cigarette gratefully, and leans back against the metal railing with both elbows.

“You keep good company,” Chris answers honestly, tipping back a mouthful of booze. “They’re still scary, though.”

Seb laughs again and says, “Intimidating to a big superhero, oh boy, they’ll be pleased with themselves.”

“Don’t tell them! You have to keep my secret!” Chris laughs, setting his drink down on the little glass table to reach out and grab Seb’s shoulder. He sticks his cigarette between his lips and holds Seb at arm's length with both hands to admit, “I want them to think I’m cool.”

Cracking up, Seb turns his head a little to exhale smoke back over his shoulder instead of into Chris’s face, and then reaches to tug Chris closer by the belt of his fancy pants.

“I’m gonna tell you a secret, you can’t tell anyone,” Seb says conspiratorially, leaning close, a little drunk and flirty. Chris laughs too, trying to hold his cigarette out of the way as Seb worms closer and says, “I think you’re alright.”

“Wait, hold on!” Chris exclaims, laughing as Seb cracks up some more and leans into his chest. “ _Just_ alright?”

Seb’s pretty pleased with himself, all bright-eyed and smiley as they stand there smoking the rest of their cigarettes and sharing Chris’s drink, since Seb left his inside.

“I could stay,” Chris says eventually, as he watches Seb butt out his cigarette, “Another day or two.”

The smile on Seb’s face is different now, still there but softer.

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, rubbing a piece of fallen ash from Chris’s jacket lapel. “I’ll be here when you get back.”

Chris doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s hard to articulate the way he feels some times - things have been especially different since the fall - and he doesn’t want to press his luck.

“Yeah,” he finally says, as they inch their way into a hug. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here's](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8325631/chapters/19115008) the backyard bonfire from October!


	9. Nine

_2019_

“These seem tight,” Chris frowns, turning around to look over his shoulder again. “Do they feel tight to you?”

At the other end of the small, private dressing room, Seb raises his eyebrows and smiles, “They’re great.”

Grimacing a little more - his dick feels all packed up in these - Chris turns to the other side and looks one last time, trying to get a good vision of his butt in the mirror. They’re not bad; he’s definitely worn worse. He’d like them if they were on Seb.

“I’m gonna try the other ones,” he finally decides, unzipping his fly.

It takes a good minute to fight his way out of them. Once he’s been liberated from their confines, he hands them back to Seb to fold while he goes for the next pair.

Chris has one foot in the dark navy ones when his phone starts ringing, muffled from somewhere behind Seb’s ass.

“Get that,” Chris says, tugging the back of the pants up over his butt.

Seb has to dig around in Chris’s rumpled street clothes for a minute, but he eventually finds Chris’s phone in his front jean pocket.

This new pair isn’t bad, actually. They definitely fit him better than the other ones did.

He’s busy zipping up the fly when he hears Seb answer his phone by greeting, “Buddy the Elf, what’s your favorite color?”

“Seb!” Chris exclaims immediately, reaching for his phone with one hand. “Get out of here!”

Fully cracking himself up, Seb pushes Chris’s hand away, and then leans back on the ottoman on one elbow, holding his free finger up in a temporary ceasefire as he listens to whoever’s on the other end of the call.

“I’ll tell him that,” he eventually smiles, still deeply amused with himself as he looks up at Chris and says, “See you Wednesday. Yeah, you got it - okay, bye. Bye.”

“Who was that?” Chris asks, watching as Seb clicks his screen off and reaches for him.

Clearly back to the more important things at hand - namely, seeing how Chris is packed into this pair - Chris watches as Seb adjusts the fabric, and then feels up his dick a little as he says, “We have to bring the pie this year. What do you think about these ones?”

“They’re fine,” Chris shrugs, generally unmoved by the whole process. “Did she say what kind of pie?”

“She didn’t specify,” Seb replies, getting in on a little butt action too.

~

After leaving Bergdorf’s, they get the last of their shopping done for Chris’s family, and then stop for some street food.

“Babe, this is good,” Seb says seriously, looking down at his hot dog.

Chris does not trust sauerkraut the way that Seb trusts sauerkraut, so he sticks to ketchup and mustard instead.

Even though it’s freezing out, they walk and eat their hot dogs, checking out all the fancy window displays in the big department stores. It’s the perfect way to spend their last free night together before the impending social crush of the holiday season.

“That’s your boyfriend,” Chris laughs, pointing out a funny looking nutcracker as he stuffs the last bite of hot dog into his mouth.

They stop by the apartment to drop their stuff off and add another layer - the forecast says its supposed to snow tonight, but lately it’s been doing the opposite of whatever the weather guy says.

In the elevator back down to the lobby, Chris wraps both arms around Seb, and closes his eyes.

“Tired?” Seb asks, reaching up to pet Chris’s forearm and watch as the floor numbers ding by.

Chris nuzzles into his favorite spot, and replies with a non-committal, “Mmm.”

~

They go for a couple of beers, and then make their way over to Rockefeller Centre for some ice skating.

While Chris is swearing at his skates as he tries to do them up properly, someone shuffles up beside him and asks for a picture. A little sweaty from the heat lamps, and red in the cheeks from the struggle, Chris puts on a smile and poses for the picture, and then makes idle chit-chat until Seb comes back from the skate rental desk to save him.

Seb has a real good way of simultaneously chatting people up and directing the conversation to a close.

After she gets a selfie with him too, she goes on her merry way - although Chris swears he sees her pause beneath a low-hanging bough of holly to get a sneaky picture of the two of them together.

The ice is pretty crowded for how late it is, but it’s also the last Saturday night before Christmas.

Chris jumps off the step and lands on the ice first. He rubs his hands together, trying to get a little more warmth in them since he forgot his gloves, and waits for Seb to stop adjusting his scarf and do the same.

“Just like the movies,” Chris jokes, as Seb appears beside him and tilts his head in the direction he wants to go.

~

It starts to snow as they’re walking home.

“Good year,” Chris says, swinging Seb’s hand a little between them.

Tired, Seb makes an agreeable noise and bumps their shoulders together as he teases, “It was alright.”

“You’re alright,” Chris replies automatically, smiling when Seb squeezes his hand.


	10. Ten

_2010_

It’s amazing to have a few days with no work obligations.

“I think we’re supposed to get snow,” Seb grimaces, looking up at the overly bright December sky.

In step beside him, Charles digs both hands into his jacket pockets, and frowns. “I hope not. I got an event in mid-town tomorrow night.”

They walk the few blocks that separate Seb’s little apartment from their favorite pho place. Being two days before Christmas, it’s busy everywhere - they end up having to wait ten minutes before they even get seats at the bar.

“You got any plans for the holidays?” Charles asks, as the bartender drops their lunch beers on a couple of cardboard coasters, and then sets their two-sided plastic menus between those.

Seb make a face as he shrugs out of his jacket.

“Not really,” he says honestly. “Might go to my mom’s for food, nothing crazy though.”

“We’re having an electronica night on Sunday,” Charles offers, flipping the menu over. “I can put you on the list.”

“Sure,” Seb agrees, only half paying attention. “Have you had the steak here?”

Charles reaches for his beer and settles back against the bar chair. He answers, sounding serious, “Yeah, do the brisket instead.”

“Got it,” Seb replies, signalling for the bartender.

~

They eat way too much pho. Afterwards, they walk a couple blocks over to see the Rockefeller tree.

On the way there, the last face Seb expects to see is Chris’s.

It happens fast. Seb’s debating a nap and half listening to Charles rant about vinyl prices when his gaze coasts over the side of a bus stop ad. It’s stupid - it’s _stupid_ \- but the second Seb’s brain registers that face, every other part of his body follows. He feels his pulse pick up; a little adrenaline begins to pump at the sudden surprise.

Seb doesn’t know what he’d do if he unexpectedly ran into Chris in the flesh. He’s never had the side of a bus stop evoke such a physical response before.

“Oh my god,” he laughs without meaning to.

That laugh and the way he says “oh my god” - _fond_ \- tips Charles off immediately. Before Seb can even make a speedy recovery, Charles is clocking what he’s staring at, and asking, “What’s up?”

“Oh,” Seb manages, barely saving his fumble. He narrows his gaze and plays it cool, “My co-worker is in that Gucci ad.”

“Co-worker,” Charles snorts, still entertained by Seb’s Life of an Actor as he eyes the ad some more. “Who’s the chick?”

“Not sure,” Seb half lies. He might recognize her from American Gothic, but he’s not sure. Before he can change his mind, he pulls out his phone, and hands it over. “Here, take my picture.”

Charles laughs as Seb poses in front of the gigantic ad. He does a really overly toothy grin, and two dramatic thumbs up.

When Charles hands his phone back, picture waiting for him on the screen, Seb pretends not to look.

“Thanks - I like to give him shit,” Seb lies, glancing at the picture before tucking his phone away and jostling Charles with his elbow. “Hey, you wanna get some coffee?”

~

He leaves Charles to it outside the coffee place, and make his way back home.

Halfway there, while he’s waiting for a crosswalk light to change, Seb pulls out his phone, looks at the picture one last time, and then sends it to Chris, adding, _I saw you in Manhattan!_ underneath it.

It’s kinda stupid. It’s not even that funny.

Seb regrets it almost immediately; he walks a little faster the rest of the way home, trying to outrun his bad decisions.

~

It takes a while for Chris to respond.

Seb doesn’t know what he was expecting, but this is something he hadn’t planned for, and he can’t articulate why.

He lays on the couch and looks out the window as a series of big heavy looking snow clouds begin to roll over the city.

They last saw one another a couple of weeks ago, right after reshoots in LA wrapped. What started out as a friendly drink ended up as a friendly bone; not that Seb would complain about that. It’s just… complicated.

Somewhere, deep down, Seb knows he likes Chris way more than he should, considering the circumstances.

Seb is reaching for his phone, just about to send a follow-up text, when it dings and vibrates.

 _Oh my god,_ Chris says, and then, _THAT IS AMAZING SEB_

Fuck, it’s so dumb, but it makes Seb smile. He chews his lip a little as he re-reads Chris’s response again, and then goes back to open the original picture he sent.

The ad itself is kind of ridiculous - it barely even looks like the guy Seb knows, in a way - but it’s also indisputably still Chris. Those are Chris’s eyes and that’s Chris’s nose and Chris’s stubble, and damn Seb for being able to spot them anywhere, even when he doesn’t mean to.

Even when he’s in the middle of a crowded Manhattan street, with a thousand other people within his immediate reach.

 _Thought you’d like it,_ Seb replies. _Merry early Christmas._


	11. Eleven

_2014_

Chris has been a real dickhead all day, and he knows it.

It’s Christmas Eve. He should be getting his Monopoly on. There’s food to eat, relatives to avoid, and he hasn’t even finished wrapping his presents yet. This is his favorite time of the year, goddamnit, and he can’t even enjoy it, because he’s too salty to feel festive.

He eats a tiny sausage roll and drinks a beer and makes small talk with his uncle.

Then he tries to be sneaky about checking his phone, too, but he’s not as surreptitious as he thought.

“Seriously, turn your volume up or something,” Scott complains, watching as Chris sneaks another look down into his pants pocket as he steals a twenty from the bank. “Stop checking it every five minutes. What’s with you, anyway?”

“Nothing,” Chris shrugs, playing it cool. “It’s your turn.”

“I went twice,” Scott laughs, as Chris unscrews his shoulders from up around his ears. “Seriously! What are you waiting for? Work? It’s Christmas Eve, man.”

“No, it’s not important,” Chris sighs, rubbing his face. He grimaces into his palms, and says, “Everything is fine.”

~

It’s not really fine.

Like, it’s fine. But it’s not Fine.

Things could be finer.

He feels like an idiot. Chris knows how it goes - he knows, first hand, how tight scheduling can be, especially with overseas projects - and he knows the little time you get at home is important. It should be spent with friends and family; not, well. Whatever the two of them are.

But damned if Chris doesn’t wish Manhattan and Boston were closer, sometimes.

Seb’s home after a month long work thing in Budapest; it was fine. They texted and sent some dirty pictures, and it was fine.

Still, some small, stupid part of Chris hoped Seb would be able to swing up to Boston for a night. He’d even considered a flight to New York, maybe sometime after Christmas and before New Years, but between Chris’s family and Sebastian’s friends, it just hadn’t worked out.

He hasn’t seen Seb for a month and a half, now. Between that time apart, and knowing Seb is so close now, their mutual decision to do their own thing over the holidays doesn’t seem so straightforward anymore.

It’s Chris’s favorite time of the year, yet the holidays are still starting to get to him.

But it’s fine.

They’re adults. They’re not even in an exclusive relationship.

Chris can handle it.

It’s fine.

~

“Are you okay?” his mom asks, as Chris comes back from smoking a cigarette on the deck, dejected.

Chris looks up, caught, as he closes the sliding glass door behind himself.

“I’m fine,” he says automatically, putting what he hopes is an innocent expression on his face.

Doesn’t work on mom. She gives him a look, and says, “You don’t look fine to me.”

“Hey,” Chris says, kicking off his shoes and trying to change the subject, “let’s watch a movie.”

~

They’re halfway through their annual viewing of Charlie Brown when Chris starts getting all choked up.

Charlie Brown is going on and on about his little tree, and how much it needs him, when Scott does a noticeable double take, and laughs, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m fine,” Chris blurts, blinking rapidly.

The last time Chris cried at a cartoon, he was baked off his ass and unable to process Quasimodo getting trashed by the villagers. He thinks about sitting here, last year, after spending the month in Manhattan. He thinks about the year before that, when they weren’t even talking to one another, and the year before that, when he was thinking about Seb and not yet realizing anything had changed.

He thinks about what next year might look like.

The fact there’s no image that comes to mind freaks him out. Seb could be here, or he could be gone.

They don’t owe each other anything.

God, Chris feels dumb. Why did he ever think he’d be able to keep things casual when it came to Seb? It’s possible he’s the _least casual_ man on the planet. He wants commitment and feelings, goddamnit, and he wants them wrapped up in a Christmas miracle.

“I have to go,” Chris blurts, as Linus is doing his weird religious thing.

His entire family looks at him, surprised. There’s even a minute before his mom asks, “Where?”

Chris is already up off the couch and halfway across the room. He paces back - he forgot his phone where he was sitting - and runs a hand through his hair. He must have the crazy eyes because everyone looks horrified on his behalf.

“New York,” he says, and then frowns.

His mom replies, “You have presents tomorrow.”

“I’ll be back for dinner,” Chris promises, grabbing his jacket and keys. He stoops down to give her a kiss on the cheek as Charlie Brown fades to the credits, then he hops over the dog on his way to the door.

~

All the flights Chris can find from Boston to New York are already overbooked - being Christmas Eve and all - and he doesn’t have the nerve to fly standby.

That’s how he ends up driving from Boston to Manhattan at five o’clock at night.

He’s gonna do this. He’s gonna tell Seb how he feels. Holy shit, he’s gonna tell Seb how he feels. A tight rope of anxiety zings through him so fast he feels it snap in his chest, jolting him back to reality.

Is he really going to do this? What the fuck is he thinking?

He definitely shouldn’t do this.

Oh god, that felt even worse than the anxiety. 

Chris rubs his face all through the last red light before the freeway, and takes a slow, steadying breath.

He’s going to do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONE DAY LEFT


	12. Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS

_2014_

By the time Seb gets home, he’s a little tipsy on the holiday themed cocktails that were served with dinner.

He chugs a glass of water first thing, and then changes out of his suit - grey, Gucci, and sentimental. It’s kinda strange, this new batch of little things that stick out to him in his quietest, most mundane moments. Somewhere out there, there are photos of he and Chris in complimentary suits.

And, every now and then, Seb works up the courage to look at them.

He heads back through to the living area, where he settles for a bowl of cereal, and some people watching from the kitchen window. It’s busy outside; Christmas Eve, that last minute flurry of activity before the calm. As Seb sits there, munching down on his food in his undies, he reaches forward, and nudges his phone a little closer.

It’s almost eight thirty, and Chris hasn’t texted him since this morning.

Kinda weird.

Chewing, Seb contemplates their last couple messages, and then pushes the phone away, so he can get back to his cereal and spying. It’s the night before Christmas. Chances are, Chris has either fallen into a food coma, or is deep into the annals of his Disney vault collection.

Either way, Seb will let him enjoy whatever it is he’s doing with the fam. He can wait until tomorrow morning to talk.

They’ve gone longer.

With that in mind, Seb leans over to set his empty bowl in the sink, and picks up his phone.

The couch is calling his name, and there’s so much waiting for him in his Netflix queue.

~

Half an hour later, Seb is deep into a documentary about a sushi chef.

A little part of him is also debating getting back up for a night cap.

It’s just - it’s been a pretty crazy year, all told - and Seb is happy to be home. Between all things Marvel, and temporarily moving to an entirely new country, it’s nice to be back to normal, even if normal seems fleeting these days.

Seb zones out a little, thoughts drifting as he watches the TV screen, and the pair of disembodied hands upon it. As they plate the tiniest, most intricate pieces of sushi Seb has ever seen, he thinks about Chris. That happens a lot - not that Seb would ever admit it - and there’s never any rhyme or reason for the connection.

Earlier tonight, someone said koalas sing to defend their territories, and Seb’s kneejerk reaction - goddamn him - was “Chris would like that.”

Hell. Maybe it’s just this time of year, or the ongoing distance between them. 

While Seb was in Budapest, he found himself missing Chris way more than he was expecting to. And it isn’t like the two of them have never spent time apart before - really, aside from working together, they’re in separate states more often than they aren’t - but, god. The feeling of loss during this last go around was palpable.

Seb experienced it with his whole body, even on the nights that he pretended everything was fine.

They’re… they’re in a good place, though, he thinks. Things haven’t been weird between them, and, before Budapest, they had seen each other frequently - more frequently than ever before. Looking back, they made an effort to see one another, even if that only mean catching up every two or three weeks.

With that in mind, Seb decides that it wouldn’t be unreasonable to see Chris before he leaves again in January.

Seb watches another piece of sushi plop down against a white plate, and frowns.

Similarly, it wouldn’t be considered unreasonable to make some real changes to his personal life in the new year, either. In fact, it seems like it might be time to start turning over a new leaf or two.

He’s contemplating this - as well as what time he should go to bed, in order to make his friend breakfast tomorrow - when there’s a knock at his front door.

“Who the…” he frowns to himself, looking suspiciously in the direction of the front hall.

After pausing his documentary, Seb gets out of the couch, pulls on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, and makes his way over to the door. He cracks it a little bit at first, just enough to peer around the edge of the frame.

“Chris,” he blurts, eyes popping wide open.

Seb knows he must look kind of shocked, but he really can’t help himself.

“Hi,” Chris replies immediately, looking just as shocked to be here as Seb is.

For the first time in his whole life, Seb is at a complete loss for words.

“Chris,” he repeats, softer this time. As his brain catches up, he puts the whole picture together - Chris, showing up unannounced, late at night - and the pit of his stomach drops. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

And, because he can’t help himself, he looks over Chris’s shoulder a little bit, almost expecting to see apocalypse fire.

“Everything’s fine,” Chris promises, looking at Seb seriously. “I, I - I drove here.”

Seb’s gaze snaps back to look directly at Chris’s face.

“You drove here,” he repeats, skeptically. He feels one eyebrow beginning to arch on its own accord. “On Christmas Eve.”

“Yes! Yes on Christmas Eve,” Chris says earnestly, then, “Listen. I have to tell you something, and it couldn’t wait.”

Oh, god. Seb’s insides freeze as those words parse through his brain. Half of him is already expecting Chris to finish his sentence with _and it’s not me, it’s you._

“Don’t say - get in here first, jesus,” Seb manages, eyeing the street over Chris’s shoulder wearily.

He tugs Chris in by the sleeve of his jacket, and clicks the door closed behind him.

“Alright, alright, sorry, I just…” Chris trips over himself as he seems to actually look at Seb for the first time, standing there in all his sleepy, still slightly drunk glory. Chris cuts off his earlier sentence to say, “Wow, Seb, you look - wow.”

Seb smiles a little, because he can’t help it, and starts back towards the living room.

“You sure everything is okay?” he asks, one hand on the back of his head, trying to smooth his couch hair down.

When Seb hears a clunk instead of an answer, he turns to see what Chris is doing. Chris is kicking off his boots while simultaneously hanging his jacket up. He’s also trying desperately to catch up to Seb, who is just in socks and sweats only a few feet away.

“Oh yeah, yeah, it is,” Chris nods, looking serious as he knots his eyebrows and says, “Seb, listen. I think about you all the time, and, you know, I don’t want to have to have a reason to pretend I don’t care about you when I know I do.”

Seb freezes, and all of his icy insides melt to puddles.

He didn’t think it was going to happen this way. He figured they’d get here eventually, that they… that they’d figure it out, somehow. But he didn’t think tonight was the night.

“I can’t pretend I feel casual about you anymore,” Chris is continuing on, going for broke despite the fact they’re still standing in the middle of Seb’s front hallway. “I wanna, I wanna…”

He trails off for one second, which is when Seb reels back to life, and steps in.

“I get it, I do,” he says, honestly, maybe more honest than he’d even admit. “Just… give me a second. I missed you.”

As he talks, he tugs Chris closer by the front of the shirt, and laughs when Chris lets out a big nervous exhale of anxiety, nose bumping into the curve of Seb’s cheek.

“I missed you, too,” Chris murmurs, stepping close, now, both hands on Seb’s hips. “God, Seb, did I ever.”

“I’m glad you came,” Seb says, mostly against Chris’s bottom lip as Chris leans in and they kiss, soft.

Seb’s eyes close, he doesn’t even mean for it to happen, they just do, and he takes a step back, smiling with the corners of his mouth as Chris kisses his lips again.

He knows where this conversation that Chris has started ends.

What used to scare him just feels inevitable now; it seems like this is how it should have been all along, when they were twenty nine and just meeting for the first time, and when they were thirty and leaving one another behind. Everything between then and now seems so faraway compared to the way Seb’s insides light up when Chris looks at him like this.

Seb pulls away, and smiles again, laughing when Chris ducks back in for another kiss.

On the other hand, he’s lasted four years already. He can drag this conversation out for another four days if it means he won’t end up with an anniversary that falls in line with a major Christmas holiday.

~

Fifteen minutes later, Chris is wearing the sweatpants Seb originally threw on, and Seb is back down to his undies.

The last half an hour of Seb’s documentary is playing out on the TV.

“Hey,” Seb smiles, tilting his head against the couch to look over at Chris, flopped into the spot beside him. When Chris looks over at him, road tired but interested, Seb arches an eyebrow, and asks, “Did you know that koalas sing to defend their territories?”

Chris cracks up, automatically squeezing Seb’s calf a little as he raises his eyebrows back, and says, “That’s amazing.”

“Yeah,” Seb nods, resting his head back against the couch, still looking at Chris. “I thought you’d like that.”

~

 **Chris Evans** @chrisevans

_Feeling the warmth of gratitude, joy, and love this morning. Wishing you all the same. Find someone you love and let them know #MERRYXMAS_

[25 Dec 14](http://chrisevans-sexualfrustrations.tumblr.com/post/106141646874/chrisevans-tweeted-at-632-am-on-thu-dec-25)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be taking a couple of weeks off to chill and work on some other projects, but if you liked this, come and say [hi on tumblr](http://sidnihoudini.tumblr.com), or leave me a comment!


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